At the resting area, Name jumped down from his bunk and began knocking on the doors of the other players’ cabins one by one.
“Anyone want to tour the factory with me?” he called out excitedly.
“Tour? Tour what?” one player asked, poking his head out through the half-open door.
“To see what a real Warhammer factory looks like! Aren’t you curious?”
“Now that you mention it… yeah, I’m interested. Let’s go.”
“I’m out. Third Squad’s running Werewolf later.”
Some players showed little interest, but after making the rounds, Name still managed to gather more than a dozen people into an impromptu tour group.
The players left the resting area in high spirits and soon stopped a servitor patrolling the corridor.
Name stepped forward confidently.
“This, uh…”
Before he could finish, the servitor replied in a flat synthetic voice:
“Sir, you may designate me as Uranium HJ354.”
“…That sounds extremely radioactive,” Name muttered under his breath. Then he straightened up and asked politely, “Can you give us a tour of the factory?”
“Apologies, sir. Permission from Tech-Priest Ossimia is required.”
“Then ask quickly,” Name said. “We’ll stay out of any confidential areas. We just want to look around.”
The servitor froze in place for several seconds, likely processing data transmissions or internal communications. Then its single mechanical eye flickered.
“Tech-Priest Ossimia has approved the request. Please follow me. I will temporarily serve as your guide. Certain restricted areas will remain inaccessible.”
“Got it, got it. Lead the way already.”
The players followed Uranium HJ354 deep into the Trinity Foundry Workshop.
The factory resembled a metallic labyrinth. Massive mechanical arms swung overhead with thunderous force. Rivers of molten metal cascaded through channels like glowing waterfalls, while steam and sparks intertwined in the air, forming an overwhelming industrial spectacle.
“This production line has remained operational for over one thousand years,” Uranium HJ354 explained. Despite the deafening machinery, its emotionless voice remained perfectly audible. “The placement of every screw and every weld mark has endured millennia of verification. This is a manifestation of the Omnissiah’s wisdom. All procedures strictly follow sacred blueprints and ancient doctrine.”
The players stared at the scene in stunned silence.
“I can’t even imagine the pressure inside that tank,” one player said. “In real life, that thing would explode instantly.”
“Well, Warhammer materials science is obviously way beyond modern technology. The setting’s forty thousand years in the future.”
Reddito, observing through Uranium HJ354’s visual feed, found himself unexpectedly interested in the Helldivers’ enthusiasm.
Most soldiers would collapse into bed after combat. These people, however, still had the energy to enthusiastically tour an Adeptus Mechanicus factory. That alone made them unusual.
But after the initial excitement faded, the players quickly noticed something strange.
“Do these servitors actually do anything?” one player asked, pointing toward rows of servitors endlessly tightening screws while chanting prayers in mechanical monotones. “The assembly line’s fully automated already. Removing them wouldn’t change anything.”
“Sir, your conclusion contains severe error,” Uranium HJ354 immediately corrected. “These sacred procedures maintain the purity and stability of the production line. The Omnissiah’s faithful soothe the machine spirit and protect it from corruption.”
The player blinked.
“Wait… aren’t servitors basically lobotomized? How are they supposed to have faith?”
“What is this? Warhammer political correctness?”
“There’s probably some actual function behind it. No way they’ve done this for ten thousand years without a reason.”
“Then what’s the purpose of that thing?”
The player pointed at a human brain suspended beside the production line. It floated inside a transparent tank of cloudy liquid, tangled in cables and tubes. The grotesque wetware looked horribly out of place among the steel machinery.
“Honestly, it looks like someone just hung it there for decoration.”
“Sir, this configuration perfectly aligns with the Omnissiah’s will after precise calculation,” Uranium HJ354 explained calmly. “The wetware continuously records and stabilizes the machine spirit’s condition.”
“So you did just hang it there.”
“You talk too much. Stop.”
“Seriously, shut up before the oil-heads stop issuing us equipment.”
“…Fair point. I’m done talking.”
Name coughed awkwardly and changed the subject.
“So what exactly does this production line make?”
“It manufactures HK-III Physical Activator,” Uranium HJ354 replied. “The compound suppresses fatigue and significantly reduces pain perception.”
The players immediately understood.
“Holy crap. Combat stimulants.”
Name’s eyes lit up.
“Any other good stuff? And please don’t use chemical jargon.”
“Yes. Additional products include PP-IV Freezing Agent, which suppresses negative emotion and maintains heightened mental clarity; Alpha-VI Liberator, which disables biological self-preservation instincts and maximizes muscular output—”
The players’ eyes grew brighter with every sentence.
“Can these be mixed together?” Name interrupted eagerly. “Like, injected all at once?”
“Theoretically, yes. However, the withdrawal symptoms after the effects expire are extremely severe—”
“Forget the side effects,” Name cut him off immediately. “What’s the optimal mixture?”
Uranium HJ354 fell silent for several moments, seemingly running calculations.
Then it answered:
“Combine 200 milliliters of HK-III Physical Activator, 200 milliliters of PP-IV Freezing Agent, 200 milliliters of Alpha-VI Liberator, and 150 milliliters of HPV-VII Sentinel within an active solvent medium.”
The servitor paused briefly before continuing.
“The resulting 750-milliliter compound will substantially enhance endurance, strength, perception, reaction speed, and damage tolerance for approximately twenty-four to forty-eight hours, depending on the user’s physiology.”
A short pause.
“After expiration of the effects, death is statistically inevitable.”
The players completely ignored the final sentence.
“This absolutely needs to become standard equipment.”
“Post it on the forums right now! Tell the company commander to negotiate with the Tech-Priest!”
“If we can automate the injection process, it’ll be perfect.”
“I knew this game had more progression paths than just mechanical ascension!”